Whiteout
by DragonflyonBreak
Summary: ' He took a deep breath and let the storm rage, feeling thrilled at the cold and power and the cries of excitement for the coming snow. ' Pre-movie. A take on the Blizzard of '68 scenario.


**A/N **Hello Rise of the Guardians fans! I have a story for you that I just wrote today and I hope that you enjoy it. I thought it was kind of interesting how it turned out - it went in a different direction that I planned but I rather like it. :)

And I wanted to say THANK YOU to all the people who read/favorited/reviewed my last story, _Crossing the Line. _I did NOT expect the response it got! It blew me away. Reviews of love coming at me for hours. Gah! You guys are totally awesome. And I know a lot of you wanted me to continue it, or to post a sequel to it and while it's still a possibility... I'm just not inspired by anything at the moment. So there might be something out in the future but I make no promises.

Enjoy!

* * *

Jack loved a good snowstorm.

It was when he felt most alive, most invigorated and at his most powerful. For as long as the storm lasted, _he _was the one in charge.

He controlled the storm. He decided how strong it got and how hard the wind blew and which town got hit the hardest. Every gust of wind, every snowflake that formed, so sharp and precise and perfect, fell because _he_ wanted it too. The ice and frost that formed on the windows of homes and cars and on the lakes and in the streets, were there because _he_ put them there.

And once Jack Frost got going, there was no one in the world who could tell him to stop.

Perhaps that was what he liked the most. Not that he was power hungry or anything - heck no. It wasn't that. With power came responsibility and he wasn't looking for that.

It was the attention that he wanted.

Because every now and then, for a couple of hours, he wasn't "_that winter spirit," _or _"the irresponsible brat," _anymore.

_He was Winter. _

_He _was Jack Frost.

He had a name and the other spirits recognized it for what it really meant. Not for long, of course and most of the time it all came back to slap him in the face when whatever spirit or being he angered _this _time came poking around for a fight... but, when Winter had a storm brewing, the other spirits ran for cover.

Even the humans noticed him. Granted, he had no belief among humans - not like the guardians or that silly leprechaun did - no one had ever seen him and most likely, no one ever would. Most children had no idea who he was and wouldn't recognize his name if they heard it.

Some would. But Jack Frost wasn't a person to them. He was just an expression. A name with no face, not belonging to any particular person but to a force.

Jack Frost meant the weather. The coldest season of all, snow, winter at its best.

_That _is what they put their belief in. That, he theorized, is where the power that would rush through his veins at the start of a blizzard, came from and that was why it only lasted for a couple of hours.

And once the storm stopped, Jack Frost didn't exist anymore. He was gone and so was the belief in the weather that somehow applied to him.

...which only lasted for as long as the storm... and _he_ didn't make them as often as others thought.

But that was why he was going to make this one last the weekend. And it had to be _this _weekend - when the level of belief was already so high it could almost be tangible. He could _feel _the excitement in the air - none of it for him though.

Not yet anyways. He was about to change that.

He sucked in a deep breath as the storm clouds grew darker around him and the air became chilly with a biting wind, reveling in the attention that was slowly, _faintly_, being drawn towards him.

His staff began to shine with an eerie blue glow as his power began to thrum through his veins, ready and waiting to be released. His fingers began twitching against his staff in impatient excitement for what was about to happen.

Already he could feel the oh so very faint feelings of excitement... the last snowfall before the coming spring...

He paused for the briefest of moments wondering if maybe he shouldn't...

Nope. The thought was gone.

The feelings of others happiness made him grin hugely, his eyes dancing with pleasure at the attention that came his way. This was what he wanted. To believed in, if just for a moment...

He took a deep breath and let the storm rage, feeling thrilled at the cold and power and the cries of excitement for the coming snow.

This was going to be a _great _Easter.

* * *

**A/N **I didn't write this with the intention of it turning into a Blizzard of '68 possible. But that was how it turned out.

Now you might be asking, "Why is Jack _happy?_". Well. In stories, he's often portrayed as being angry or gaining retribution against Bunny with this act - I too, have tried my hand in this but I never liked what I came up with - but in the _movie, _when I watch the scene where this is mentioned, Jack seems to look back on this with _amusement_, which I take to mean it was FUN for him somehow. But not in a way that he did it to intentionally tick Bunny off.

Jack's power - that was interesting for me to toy with. Jack is an season or an elemental - he can control changes in the weather and make it do what he wants. So the way my headcannon is working with this is that PEOPLE BELIEVE IN THE WEATHER. Duh. When the weather is doing something extreme, their thoughts are turned to it and what is happening. And people associate the name JACK FROST with COLD and so when a blizzard rolls around, people think, oh, Jack Frost is out and about. While it's not necessarily belief in him, it's still acknowledging the existence of what he does and controls... so by proxy he gets belief and belief is power. I hope that makes sense. I thought it was rather clever. XD

Name of the story - Jack is the center of the storm and I imagine it's very, very white up there. :D

Thank you so much for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it and please review!


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